


Sacrificed to Flames

by Starren_Moonstone



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Body Horror, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Failed Ritual, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Jonah gets what's coming to him, M/M, No beta we kayak like Tim, Scopophobia, like he does in all these ficts I write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28745001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starren_Moonstone/pseuds/Starren_Moonstone
Summary: There is only one thing to do with statements. A look at two different times Jon used fire to burn written statements.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43
Collections: The Magnus Archives Flash Fanwork Challenge





	Sacrificed to Flames

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last story I wrote for The Magnus Archives Flash Fiction Challenge. The prompts I used were hunger and ceremony. (Hunger is there, if you squint). I had a lot of fun doing the challenge and I am excited to see how the Magnus Archives end (It's going to be tragic, but I am hoping for a satisfying ending - I can write comfort fluff after the fact). Hope y'all enjoy!

Jon and Martin stayed on the floor in front of the fire for a very long time, holding each other for dear life. The wind howls menacingly outside in a darker tone now than it did that morning. Neither of them paid much attention to the fire, as it flickered and slowly died out. It now is a low, rosy color, that still somehow providing warmth. Martin is still rocking Jon, swaying slowly to calm both of them down.

It was a bit of a scene to come home to. Jon standing in the middle of the room, hair floating in midair as if strings were hoisting the strands, and many, many eyes all over Jon’s skin glowing green and Watching. The two eyes on Jon’s face, his normal eyes, looking terrified. It was certainly enough to propel Martin to action. He tore the statement out of Jon’s hands and threw it into the fire. Jon’s voice cracked, but he kept talking. Martin had to cover Jon’s mouth violently to get him to stop, which ended with the two of them collapsing onto the floor. Jon eventually crumpled onto Martin fully, shaking and sobbing.

Jon could have fallen asleep right there. He was so exhausted in all respects. The ritual stripped him of all his energy. He cannot move, nor would he want to. He had Martin, and that was enough for him. The preamble that Jonah Magnus written hurt Jon hard. That he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time being the reason for being the Archivist. There was nothing special about him, and his fate could have been anyone’s. It hurts, more than it has any right to be.

“I’m here, Jon,” Martin says softly, cradling the words gently on his tongue. “It’s alright now.”

“He used me,” Jon barely manages to get out, “He… the world almost ended.”

“But it didn’t.”

“It still could.”

“But not today,” Martin says.

Jon wants to believe those words. That the world will not end today, or ever. That he could have a normal life with Martin. That the two of them could live happily ever after. But surely, that could only happen in modern fairy tales. For so long, Jon felt trapped in a Brother’s Grimm cautionary tale about what happens when you seek knowledge and getting stuck in a rabbit hole of your own making. He still feels trapped in it.

“Can you stand?” Martin asks.

“I don’t think I can.”

“Right then.” Martin shifts his grip on Jon and nearly effortlessly, scoops him up into the air. Jon is soon enough placed on the couch as Martin then goes to douse the fire properly. “Bed then? Or do you want some tea?”

Jon must have given Martin a helpless look, for Martin gives him an amused look. “We can do both. Chamomile then?”

“Green.”

“Green tea it is.” Once again, Martin scoops Jon up and soon enough the two of them are in bed, holding warm mugs of green tea. It isn’t until weeks later, along with horror prone nightmares about what the apocalypse could look like, that Jon finally accepts that the world is not going to end. A few months later, Jonah Magnus is properly dealt with by Basira, leaving all those connected to the Archives finally free of his treachery. 

One year later

Jon stares at the pages scattered all over his desk. Over the past few months, his therapist suggested to write down his thoughts on paper as a way of getting it all out and not bottling it in. It was a lot of frantic writing and half cohesive sentences, none of which makes any sense to anyone else reading. But Jon knows where each and every thought came from. They stare up at him, wanting to be read. 

Jon grabs all the pages of his own writing and pulls them together into a pile. He then takes them out into the living room, where the fireplace is bare of any energetic light. It’s easy work for him to get the fire roaring. He and Martin have become experts at it, seeing as being next to the fireplace in the evenings is very romantic and comforting for the both of them. Once more, he looks at the pages in his hands, before one by one, throwing them in and watching them burn. There is no unnatural glint to them, no odd colors of light coming from the charring pages. Just normal pieces of paper catching aflame, their contents now obscured forever to ash. 

“Everything alright, Jon?” Martin asks, coming into the room from the kitchen. His apron is stained with flour and fruit juice; luckily today it’s from mangoes and not cherries, although there are still some red stains that just would not come out. “What are those?”

“Just… um… venting,” Jon admits, as he throws another piece into the fire. “I’ve been… trying to move on, and so our therapist suggested to do this.” He shrugs at the pile. “If getting it out on paper isn’t helping, maybe burning it will?”

Martin looks at Jon amused, which was a very adorable look on the man. “Is it helping?”

“I think so. It’s good to not look at it anymore.”

“Good. The tart should be almost done. It’s one of the ones I wrote up.”

“Ah… Mango tart?”

Martin nods. “With some other stuff, but it’s mostly mango. I know you like that flavor.”

“Is this one for eating?” Jon asks, with a lilt to his voice. The past few times, he got scolded at for trying to get a taste of Martin’s baking. They were supposed to be gifts and donations for local charity fundraisers. 

“Yes, this one is for…” Martin barks out laughing, “I wouldn’t have told you if it wasn’t. I'm not that crewel. I want you to be the first to try this one. I wrote the recipe for you.”

Jon looks at the pile. “Then I’m going to have to finish this up quickly then, yes?”

“Only if you want to try it while it’s still warm.” Martin winks then heads back into the kitchen. Jon still finds it amazing that the man, who works in a bakery, still finds the time to bake at home. 

Jon looks at the pile once again, judging it and weighing it in his mind, before grabbing what is left and tossing it all in to the flickering flames. They are easily devoured. He imagined the archives burning. For many different reasons, they couldn’t fully burn them. Not from lack of trying, which are easily shown on Jon’s leg. Another scar he will always carry. 

Jon takes a deep breath and heads into the kitchen. Martin stands by the sink, cleaning up the last of the dishes he used to make his tart. Jon stands at the doorway for a moment, looking on at the scene in front of him. He gets to have this: a very plain and mundane home life with a man he loves and will forever cherish. There were so many ways this could have never happened… and yet, there he is. Present. 

Martin looks up and gives his lover an inviting smile. Jon shares it back, and walks over, putting his arms around Martin. “You know I love you?” Jon asks.

“Always,” Martin replies, supporting Jon in the hug and getting the back of his shirt all wet. Jon doesn’t mind one bit.


End file.
